


Symphonies Inside Her Head

by harmonicanoise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: After Harry Potter Series, Bad Dirty Talk, Begging, Cheeky Harry, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gentle Kissing, Ginny Has a Foul Mouth, Kissing, Love, Love Potion/Spell, Lust Potion/Spell, Magic, Married Couple, Married Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Married Life, Married Sex, Masturbation, Moaning, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Playful Sex, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Romantic Fluff, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Short, Short & Sweet, Spells & Enchantments, Sub Ginny, Sweet Ending, Sweet/Hot, Three-Parter, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmonicanoise/pseuds/harmonicanoise
Summary: Harry and Ginny try something new. Ginny suffers in the sweetest possible way.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 111
Collections: aHarryGinnyFix





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I dreamed up at 3 AM when I couldn't sleep.
> 
> Three-parter, posting it all in one go. Honestly I'm kind of surprised how much I love writing this couple. Hope you all enjoy :)

“So, you just did what now?”

Harry smiled, and it was a wanton smile, just dripping with secrets. “I just Obliviated you.”

“Oh, good.” Ginny felt relieved. “So it worked.”

“Yeah, erm… I did it just the way you said.” Harry’s wand was still in his hand, Ginny noticed, so he must’ve done it recently. Not that she could remember.

“And what did I say, exactly?” she asked.

“Oh, God.” Harry looked crestfallen. “Did I erase too much? How much do you remember?”

“I remember lunch,” Ginny said thoughtfully, trying to grasp at details. “I ate a sandwich, I think. That’s about it.”

“I did too much,” Harry groaned. “Now we can’t go through with it…”

“Wait, go through with what?”

“And you practically _begged_ me to do it…”

“Do _what?_ ” Ginny was starting to get annoyed. “Dammit Potter, tell me.”

Harry let out a shaky smile. “Well, alright. If you insist.” Harry reached behind him and pulled out a book emblazoned with the words _Fingers, Smells, and Shivering Spells: How To Please Your Witch._ A thoroughly embarrassing title, but he didn’t even blush, flipping to a page marked by a little bookmark with a flower sketched on the end. _My bookmark,_ Ginny realized. 

Memory slammed into her with the force of a sledgehammer. “Wait, I know that book!” she exclaimed. A crystal-clear picture appeared in front of her eyes: she was sitting at her kitchen table, sipping at her morning tea, reading through the inscriptions and letting her right hand drop ever lower beneath her skirts…

Ginny flushed. _Oh._ She could tell she was going to like whatever her past self had picked out for her.

Harry looked up. “Merlin, I haven’t seen you blush like that in years,” he said, laughing.

Ginny hit him lightly. “Shut up,” she replied, but it was true.

“Alright,” Harry began, tracing the words on the page with one long, smooth finger--

_(how it would feel to have that inside me…)_

\--and reading them aloud. _“Unum Mandatum,_ ” he read. “A spell that, if applied with a firm _Obliviate,_ can be most pleasing to a witch that likes to beg for her pleasure.” A red heat began to climb up his neck, but he carried on. “Pick a word, any word that you can count on yourself not saying in common conversation. Then, simply sit your lover down, rub the assorted list of oils listed below on her sensitive spots, and utter the spell, thinking of your word. Begin to pleasure her until she reaches her apex, and then whisper your Command Word into her ear. Wait a few minutes, then Obliviate. Wait until your witch has come back into her senses, and the spell is truly ready to -- pardon my Muggle saying -- work its magic.”

“What, then?” Ginny asked, mystified. “What does it do to me?” But she had a warm, stirring feeling in her gut that told her she already knew.

Harry put the book aside. “You can’t orgasm until I say this word to you,” he said bluntly.

“What?” Ginny gaped. She flushed again. “No _way_ \-- You don’t have that much control over me, Potter, you only _wish_ you did. Just watch, I’ll do it just fine on my own.” Indignant, Ginny flipped a strand of red hair over her shoulder. The _nerve_ of him, even to suggest it-!

Harry’s eyebrows lifted. He appeared to be trying very hard not to laugh.

Ginny changed out of her robes quickly. She went to her drawer and pulled out her vibrator, the slim blue one with the slick sides. It was a reliable choice; it had never failed her before. And she knew her body better than anyone, at least better than her lovely, yet stupid, _stupid_ husband. She pushed it in gently, sighing as the first jolts of pleasure swept through her. _Yessss,_ she knew better… It hummed inside her, and she pushed it in further, first slowly, then, as that singing feeling of friction built up she grabbed it and shoved it in, rough, back and forth, the way she would want to be fucked, hot and rough and messy, and _Bloody hell, she was going to--_

And then she didn’t.

She stopped, confused, and shoved it up again.

A burst of pleasure; and then nothing.

_What in the world--_

Harry’s laugh tore through her consternation. “I told you,” he gloated, but Ginny was far from giving up.

“Blasted--” she hit the vibrator once with her palm, like she was trying to kickstart an engine. “-- _thing…”_ She grit her teeth. She’d been so close, it was _infuriating._ Sighing, she pulled it out in surrender.

Harry stared down at her, smirking, the goddamned prick.

Well.

Harry had a better success rate than the vibrator, which was wont to list sometimes in the wrong directions. As much as it pained her to admit it, she was not going to prove herself wrong. She would orgasm. Without him saying his stupid word.

“Take your clothes off,” she snapped, and she was already wet, _yes,_ this was going to work splendidly. He was so beautiful underneath his clothes, all smooth, rolling muscle and his dick was round and plump and hard enough for her to sink her teeth into, not that she would actually do it.

Harry mounted her with grinning enthusiasm.

“Don’t you dare say the word,” Ginny snarled in his ear. She bit into it, hard, and Harry let out a moan of pain and pleasure. “Don’t you dare say it, I’m going to orgasm without it, I _will_ and then you’ll be wrong.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Harry smiled, then thrusted hard and deep into her, his ugly smirk contorted into a grimace of want. Harry felt so good inside her and Ginny seized on that, moving with the _pulse pulse pulse_ of his smooth, perfect dick sliding into the darkest recesses of her body and her mind, carrying her away into--

Ginny blinked. 

“Dammit!” she swore.

Harry pulled himself off of her with some effort. He collapsed on the ground, his hand pumping furiously away at his erection, and he groaned and Ginny watched with growing envy as he released and bits of semen shined like jewels against that plump perfect thing.

But even as Harry sat there, panting his way out of ecstasy, he still had that stupid fucking grin on his face. “I told you. You’re _mine._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny tried everything after that. Sticking a few fingers up there and fishing around the old fashioned way, shoving the vibrator back in, even trying to think of Harry and his blessed, shining cock, glory to the heavens Alleluia it shone glory upon her, and God, she was already worshiping it, wasn’t she? Rage swirled within her. That was what Harry wanted, and she would  _ not  _ give Harry what he wanted.

But if she  _ did… _

If she really got down on her knees and  _ begged  _ for it…

Release. Finally,  _ finally _ release.

It had been hours. She craved it. And hey, while it might hurt her pride (and it really did hurt), at least this wanting would be over. 

Because holy hell, she was tired of building to crescendo in a beautiful jumble of notes, a goddamned symphony pouring into her ears, swelling and flowing louder and louder with jolts of brass and bass drum, to hear it stop in horrible, ringing silence. An utter, consuming empty.

She found Harry putting a kettle on the stove, preparing afternoon tea. He was clad only in boxers, his usually messy jet-black hair even more of disaster than usual, sticking up in mad, ruffled clumps. Ginny reached up and messed it up some more.

“Hey,” Harry said, grinning. He turned and kissed her. It was lingering and sweet, but not in the way that she wanted right now, and it only made the aching want in her gut deepen. He turned back to his kettle and she slipped herself around him, clasping her hands about his stomach, leaning her head against his back so rippled and stretched with muscle. Bloody hell, he was gorgeous. She grinded herself against him in motions so slow they were almost imperceptible.

“Ah.” Harry sounded faintly amused. “So you’ve come to your senses, have you? Come to beg?”

_ Bastard,  _ Ginny thought, but she swallowed her pride. “Yes, you arse, I’ve come to beg,” she spat, but she smiled as she said it, to even her surprise. He didn’t relent; he just kept staring at the stupid kettle.  _ It only whistles when you’re not watching,  _ that’s what her mother always said, and she’d stood by that her whole life but he clearly hadn’t. He was a damned fool.

Maybe a little sweetness would work. “Please,” Ginny moaned, making the word stretch and drip with honey. Her hands slipped lower and Ginny felt (There was a sharp intake of breath; Harry’s muscles tensed against her) his hardness with her fingers that were so nimble, so small. “ _ Pleeaaase.” _

Harry turned, and his face was in hers, and he kissed her, long and hard and greedy, shoving his tongue down her throat--

The kettle began to whistle.

_ Always when you’re not watching,  _ Ginny thought, and cursed it.


	3. Chapter 3

She had to beg three more times before the bastard would go back to their bedroom. Fucking afternoon tea. She had all the British sensibility of the best of them, but she cursed it all the same. For the love of hell, couldn’t the universe have just pushed it an hour later? Or two, or three, or four…

Harry laid her on the bed, and this time, he said, “I’ve got a surprise for you,” and winked.

 _He’s not tugging off his boxers,_ Ginny thought with alarm--

And then she couldn’t think anymore. His tongue... His tongue was carving new sculptures of pleasure in her mind, a road that stretched impossibly onwards, rising up, up, up that spotted hill, he was licking her nether lips so sweet, and Ginny heard that orchestra climbing, climbing once again to crescendo--

And then she heard the echoing silence.

She let out a string of curses that would have made even Mundungus Fletcher wince. A blind, pissing-drunk Mundungus Fletcher. That was saying quite a lot.

“My, my, the mouth on you.” Harry was grinning and stretching over her, and as he kissed her she could taste herself on his lips, and good Lord, here comes that horrible quiet again.

“Fucking hell, get off me,” she pouted, pushing herself away. She turned back. “Come on, you wanker, just say it, Potter, say it, you bastard sonofawhore-”

“If you want me to say it, you’re going to have to ask me nicely,” Harry told her, giving her an annoyingly adorable peck on the lips.

Alright, fine. She’d left her dignity in the dust a long time ago. She’d already begun to beg, what was a bit more?

“Please,” she whispered against his ear. “I’m begging you. Do you want me to get on my knees? I’ll do it. I’ll suck your dick, I’ll suck it in front of the whole world, I’ll do anything you ask.” God, what was coming out of her mouth? But she meant it, she meant every fucking word and it disgusted her a little but it gave her so much release to admit it. “I’ll let you stick your fucking dick anywhere on me, I’ll wear anything, do anything if you just say the word, just _say_ it.” Harry groaned; it was music to her ears, it was _working._ “Now, please, pretty pretty please, will you do it?” she whined.

Harry sucked in a breath. “Will you really go on your knees?”

“I’ll worship your body like a damned altar.” She grinned, and hoped that it was charming. She rolled onto the floor, landing on her knees, bowing her head in mock prayer. “Hail Potter, dick of grace--”

“Shut up.” Harry laughed. “Jesus, that’s corny. Where did you learn your dirty talk, from a seventies porn?”

“Come onnn,” Ginny wailed. “I’m tired of waiting, just--”

“I’m just playing with you. Come here.” And she came without a second thought, without even challenging him for it. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen._

They came together again, Harry shrugging out of his boxers, kissing her gently before pushing himself into her until they were one breathing, shaking unit, a body with two hearts and four hands, and that connection ran deep inside her.

 _I love you oh oh how I love you,_ Ginny told him, and he moaned the same against her neck.

He whispered, “I’m going to say it.”

Before, Ginny would’ve said _You’d better._ Now, she bit her tongue. She couldn’t afford to lose it this time, she couldn’t, she had never needed anything so badly as she needed him right now.

They pushed and fell together into that familiar silk satin lining of pleasure and now Ginny was so close, so goddamned close and words were beyond her, but she thought that she would scream if she had to stare again into that fucking void--

And Harry put his mouth against her ear. He whispered the word.

The fucking _word._

Ginny would never remember what it was afterwards. In the moment, she came so hard she saw stars, and music bloomed in her ears in a blast of sweet, swelling sound and then she saw something that looked like it tasted like honey. She kept going and going, whimpering with the force of it. When Harry left she was so desperate for something to be inside her that she groped around for something with random hands, aching, her head swimming with pleasure.

Harry pressed something into her hand and she pushed it in without thought. She was beyond thoughts now, nothing but a snarling, screaming animal without even a name, the pleasure pushed so deep into her, and the thing that she had put inside was her trusty vibrator and Merlin, she had never cum so _hard_ in her life.

When it was over, she cried. She could barely talk. Harry was sitting next to her, she registered dimly. He took her hand and squeezed.

It was a long time before Ginny came sputtering into her senses. She was so warm. The force of the orgasm seemed to have kicked her back into infancy; she babbled inane things to her husband, tears slipping down her face, things that she thought meant _I love you I love you I will love you_ always.

She found herself able to talk at dinner. She’d always recovered quickly from her injuries on the Quidditch pitch; it made sense that she’d bounce back from this pretty fast, too. Still, as she walked she was bowlegged, and that filled her with a kind of wanton lust. _Look at the slut, how she wobbles and tilts, the drunken whore…_ She was beginning to love taking herself down a peg. _I guess it grows on you after a while._

Harry had made dinner. It was steak and kidney pie, and it was delicious. She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly.

“That was really good,” she told him, smiling. “Really, _really_ good.”

“The pie?”

“No, the sex, you idiot.” She giggled.

“I’m glad.” Harry took a bite of his and swallowed. “I was afraid I’d hurt you when you started crying.”

“Oh, no. It was good. To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve had a good long cry.” She looked at him suggestively over a spoonful of mash. “I think I should do it more often.” Now, it was her turn to take Harry’s hand and squeeze.

Harry’s grin was light and love and everything that made Ginny’s heart twist with want. “Word only works once,” he said offhandedly.

“A crying shame, that. I think you’d love taking the piss out of me on the Tube. Imagine: We’re traveling with my mum or Ron or George and suddenly I’m wetting my panties. I’d be helpless to resist.”

“Mmm. That a new fetish of yours?” Harry’s thumb brushed against her hand in slow circles, a habit that he knew she loved.

“In front of my family?” Ginny scoffed. “No way. In front of my Quidditch fans, however… Well, they say all publicity is good publicity.”

Harry, who had already stuffed a good gob of pie in his mouth, choked on it.

“Are you alright?” Ginny asked, concerned.

“Fine,” Harry coughed. He thumped at his chest, eyes streaming. “I’m fine.” He took a sip of his water and smiled. “God, I think you’ll be the death of me one day, love.”

Ginny smiled back. “I hope so.” It was nothing less than an _I love you_ from Ginny Potter.


End file.
